


A Wedding to Remember

by BenedictCumberwumberbatch



Series: Sherlock Hurt/Angst [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BrilliantHolmes, DevilMoriarty, Happy, M/M, Sad, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Twitter RP, Wedding, Well oops, jimlock, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenedictCumberwumberbatch/pseuds/BenedictCumberwumberbatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jimlock Wedding finale with @DevilMoriarty and my Sherlock account!</p>
<p>(It goes out with a BANG!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wedding to Remember

Sherlock grinned happily to himself, what had it been, three hours since he had got married? It felt like simply minutes ago, since he had the panic of John not turning up to collect him for the wedding, the cab not arriving and the car that he had, well, borrowed breaking down on the way to the venue of the wedding. The stress and tension that had been there between Sherlock and Jim as he entered the building and the fear that Jim would tell Sherlock to leave, to go and not to come back that was luckily just a figment of his imagination had been and gone.   
  
The sweetest vows Sherlock had ever heard from Jim still lingered in his mind as he sat at the after party, watching Jim happily as he got drinks from the open bar, wiping the still remaining cake off his cheek and grinning as he received the drink that Jim handed to him. Looking around, spying Lestrade, Mycroft, Sebastian and Molly as well as other familiar faces at this party, he couldn’t help but grin again. This was what he had been missing out on for 30 years and he regretted that this couldn’t have all happened sooner.  
  
Then, Sherlock stood up, grinning as Jim finally led him to the dance floor and they had their first dance, smiling happily they danced carefully, love surrounding them both he just loved this, the slow pace of the dance speeding up to a high-beat, happy tune as Sherlock laughed as the DJ started to play the setlist from the nightclub from only a few nights ago. Sherlock holding Jim’s hand still as they danced, his smile still wide over his face, all the other participants of the wedding now joining in dancing on the dance floor, all equally happy.  
  
That all changed swiftly. Smiles suddenly fading and going as the doors swung open, to reveal a very, very, drunk John Watson. But that wasn’t what everyone was frowning about, in fact Sherlock was so happy to see John, he didn’t notice what the others saw behind John. Behind the John that staggered over to Sherlock for a hug, but never made it there as he toppled over from alcohol, causing Sherlock to run to catch John, to check he was alright.  
  
So of course, Sherlock didn’t notice the armed gunmen behind John. The ‘friends’ that followed John here, that the Detective’s friend had been led to believe were friends of Jim’s, that had lost their invitations. Oh no, they were anything but ‘friends’. They were rivals. Enemies. These were people whom wanted to make Jim’s life a living hell, and they had found the easiest route to it.  
  
What could be worse than killing the one you had just declared your undying love for, in front of you, on the day of your wedding? Not a lot. But no one was prepared, it happened in split seconds, the movement, the graceful directions that Sherlock took to catch John from falling as they shot John in front of Sherlock, causing Sherlock to stop, deadly still. His eyes widening and face paling as he turned to the gunman, whom then smirked and raised the gun to Sherlock’s forehead.  
  
BANG.  
  
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, but felt no pain. It was the gun that belonged to Sebastian Moran that had been fired, aimed with perfect precision it hit the gunman in the temple, causing him to instantly fall back in a puddle of blood. Then, the other gunmen, until there was almost a pile of them outside in the garden that had hosted most of the after party that evening.   
  
But no one saw the other one. The guest that no one had invited, the one that no one had noticed. The one with the small pistol in his blazer pocket. That small, pistol. Who says something small can’t create a big impact? Because when you aim and fire that gun at the one you love, the one you would give anything for and to, your heart can’t help but break a thousand times. And that is what Sherlock felt as he saw the bullet racing towards Jim, that he didn’t even think, he just acted.  
  
Sherlock flew, soared through the air, diving towards Jim in an attempt to save both himself and Jim, but desperation is a silly thing. As is love. Neither of them ever truly succeed. They are just something that the losing side have, emotions, friends. You don’t, shouldn’t really have them if you want to win. So when Sherlock managed to push Jim away he thought they would both be fine, but as Sherlock knew, he could never win with love, he was blinded by it. And that is what blinded the great detective from the oncoming bullet that whirred towards where Sherlock was now half-standing half-crouching and lodged inside of his abdomen.   
  
And then, like a rose, like the roses that where situated all other the garden and room, a small flower started to bloom underneath Sherlock’s suit jacket. A small flower blossoming underneath him as Sebastian turned and shot the last gunman, Jim jumped up and grabbed Sherlock frowning heavily.  
  
“You idiot. Why the hell did you do that?!” Jim’s voice was unusually gruff, like there was something stuck in his throat he frowned heavily, not caring that some of the blood that was seeping and growing from Sherlock was dripping and implanting itself onto Jim’s Westwood suit.   
  
And Sherlock simply smiled a little, he knew that Jim would protest whatever he said, that all he could do was smile. John was fine, he was sure of it; the bullet had only penetrated his leg and that was enough, John could learn to walk on it for the second time. That was fine. But Sherlock’s wound, unless Mycroft could pull some strings, that was that. Sherlock’s wound would be fatal, the blood already pouring and causing new ‘flowers’ to arise on his once clean white shirt.  
  
“Sorry for being late Jim.” Sherlock smiled, choking up a little blood as his weak smile started to become strained, looking up at Jim with watery eyes. Raw emotions that Sherlock had not felt for such a long time, that he had to swallow to attempt to keep the last of his composure.   
  
“What the fucking hell do you mean?! You explained why you were late, it’s bloody fine!” Jim choked up glaring angrily down at Sherlock now.  
  
That’s what it is, isn’t it? The first step is grief, remorse. Then anger, anger, rejection and so on. And that was it, Jim glaring at Sherlock, tears almost forming, though the anger and hot blood that Jim had at that moment in time was stopping them from falling, as it seemed that it was only those two left in the world. That Sebastian, John, the gunmen had left. That the wedding was still going on.  
  
Jim tried to desperately salvage all the memories of the wedding and piece them together, This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. Sherlock was alive. NO. Sherlock was dead. No, he was alive. Jim made himself promise himself that Sherlock was alive. But no, he wasn’t alive for much longer. He was dying in those arms that held him up.  
  
And there it was, before death your eyesight is the first to go. And that was what went for Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest consulting detective. Sherlock could only see darkness. He could only feel a little of the tears that were pouring onto his face from Jim whom was holding him from above himself.  
  
And darkness, once again. The last thing that he could sense, hear, feel was the soft cooing of Jim’s voice whimpering, crying out to Sherlock in the last minute desperation...  
  
“Don’t go Sherlock...”


End file.
